


Moments in Time

by ZutaraBeliever



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending?, Idiots in Love, M/M, Micah Bell is an asshole, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Tuberculosis doesnt exsist, Useless Gays, Violence, You'll see in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 16:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZutaraBeliever/pseuds/ZutaraBeliever
Summary: Albert Mason and Arthur Morgans slow burn started the moment they met, but as life goes on and the distance between them grows, its the small moments in time that keep the slow burn smoldering.





	Moments in Time

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE GAME! 
> 
> If you haven't finished don't read on!

“My entire, futile life flashed before my eyes…” Albert panted as Arthur helped him stand, his whole body shaking.

 

“They can be pretty aggressive.” Arthur chuckled a bit, patting the man's shoulder.

 

“What a way to…Literally a dog's dinner..!” Albert said as his breath left him. He was panting as he clutched his chest. “I owe you once again Mr. Morgan. You truly are my savior.”

 

Arthur shook his head a bit. “Just stopped ya from gettin’ eaten--”

 

“Nonsense, you saved my life! You deserve some sort of reward.” The man was still catching his breath as he knelt down and rummaged through his bag. Soon, with an ‘ _Ah!_ ’, he stood back up and went to Arthur, a stack of bills in his hand “Please. It’s the least I can do for being such a burden.”

 

           Arthur spoke before he thought. “I don’t need your money Mr. Mason.  Just right place, right time.”

 

He could hear Dutch’s voice shouting in his mind about ‘ _the good of the camp_ ’ and ‘ _all that money could have bought_ ’, but something in him was ignoring it, and he wasn’t sure what. Had it been anyone else, he’d take the money and never see them again. This had only been his second time running into Albert Mason, strange in it’s own right, but to Arthur, all of Albert made him feel strange. It wasn’t likely to run into the same person twice in such a large area, yet here he was again, helping save the photographer from another predator. To be fair, the first time was just a coyote who stole his bag, but Arthur still counted it. Thinking about it made him chuckle sometimes. He’d never met someone so naive to the world around them but Albert was different, and Arthur couldn’t figure out why.

 

Albert blinked and looked to be in thought before another, ‘ _Ah!_ ’ left his lips. Arthur did all he could to hide the small curl up of his own smile. The man wore his heart on his sleeve, something Arthur hadn’t met in a long time.

 

“A meal then?” Albert said. “I just came back from town with fresh steak, as well as a few vegetables for roasting! I even splurged and bought spices from the butcher who promised they paired very well. “

 

Arthur took a deep breath. “Sure. I’ll take a meal.” He smirked. “That is if you're preparing it of course.”

 

Albert chuckled. “I may be naive to all the wilderness has to offer, but I do know how to make a fire and put up a tent!” He beamed.

 

“Good. But let's do it away from these... _bodies_. Chances are, the smell will bring something bigger and meaner this way.”

 

He saw Albert perk up before shaking his head. “Nothing you want to take pictures of right now. I already saved you once today.” He smirked and Albert let out a small chuckle.

 

“Quite right. Lets not test luck shall we?” He bent to put away his equipment as Arthur turned to the closest wolf carcass and began to skin it. He only stopped when he heard a small gasp behind him. Thinking it was something or someone attacking them, Arthur pulled his revolver and turned.

 

“What is it?” he asked Albert, but realized the man was looking at him.

 

“I apologize I just--what are you doing?” Albert asked.

 

Arthur rose an eyebrow and looked from the wolf to Albert. “Getting the fur?” He said as if it were obvious.

 

Albert blinked rapidly. “Oh! Yes. Of course. I suppose I’ve just never seen the fur before it was made into a coat.” He let out an uneasy chuckle.

 

Arthur rose an eyebrow. “Don't tell me you ain’t never hunted before.”

 

“I am afraid it’s never come up.” He shrugged and wrung his hands. “This is one of my first times in the wild. I usually buy meat before I go”

 

Arthur thought for a moment then gestured for Albert to come near him. Albert was hesitant.

 

“Come on, it ain’t gonna jump ya.” He told Albert as he turned back to the carcass. Albert bit his lip and knelt down beside Arthur.

 

“So you see where my gun got ’em?” He gestured to the wolfs chest. Arthur had gotten a good shot on this one, so it would be a fairly good pelt.  Albert nodded. “Dependin’ on how many shots ya get off, tells you how useable the pelts gonna be.” He instructed. “an’ you gotta cut straight along the stomach. It’s easier to get the whole thing that way.”

 

Arthur told the photographer who let a small ‘ _Oh my_ ’ from his lips as Arthur cut a nearly perfect straight line.

 

“It’s hard to get the head, so you  usually leave it-”

 

“Unless you want to show off your kill to others in some club.” Albert said with a sort of venom Arthur hadn’t heard from the gentile man. It made the outlaw chuckle.

 

“You seem to feel strongly about that.” He stopped and Albert turned back to Arthur with the anger all but vanishing, his naive innocence back in full force.

 

“I suppose it is one of the reasons I am taking these photos. People in the city seemed to kill things as trophies. “ He sighed.

 

Arthur shrugged. “Seems wasteful.” he said as he continued to cut his line along the wolfs stomach.

 

“It is. It is very tragic in my opinion. These creatures are beautiful.”

 

Arthur saw the admiration in his eyes. It was a bit strange. “You really do care about these killing machines, huh?”

 

Albert chuckeld. “I do,I won’t deny it. But I am an american, it’s what we do. We hold a love for killers that borders on macabre.”

 

Arthur struggled a bit as he got to the tail. “Maybe. Isn’t that why they keep’em as trophies?”

 

“Yes but, they never know the true beauty of their power. Though I’ve nearly died twice, I have only grown to respect them.” He chuckled. “You must think me a fool, Mr.Morgan.”

 

Arthur took a  deep breath as he finished his cut. “A little, but I ain’t immune to foolishness myself.” He turned to the photographer. “Now this next parts pretty hard if ya ain’t used to to, so you may wanna step back.”

 

Albert nodded and moved to stand a few feet away. Arthur groaned a bit as he pulled the skin from the wolf carcass.  He smiled when he saw he got it all in one go, holding it up like a prized fish. Albert smiled with him, if not a bit nervously.

 

“This,” Arthur said as he wrapped the pelt. “Will make some great blankets for camp.”

 

“And what of the meat?” Albert asked, gesturing to the wolf carcass.

Arthur shook his head. “Ain’t no good. Smells rotten and just attracts other wolves.” he said as he hefted the pelt to his shoulder. He could have sworn he saw Alberts cheek turn a bit red, but maybe it was just his imagination. He had noticed the photographer's eyes on him ever since he’d gotten there, though Albert tired to look away so as not to get caught, Arthur was usually too quick for him to succeed.

 

The truth was Albert was seemingly drawn to Arthur, hoping every time he went out that the man would find him. So far his wishes had come true. Their first meeting had been largely uneventful compared to the second. A coyote had simply grabbed his bag, no ferocious creature was trying to have him for lunch. But this time, seeing the outlaw, Arthur, in action, protecting him, had sent Alberts mind into a tizzy. He knew he was a very anxious man in most regards, as evidenced by his jump everytime Arthur came to say hello, but he wasn’t entirely useless.

 

He did know how to camp, and how to survive a little. He was a creature of comfort, coming from a big city, but he was learning fast the ways of the wilderness. And if some big, strong, dangerous yet intriguing man was there to help him, Albert wasn't going to say no.

 

He had obviously gotten lost in thought when he heard Arthur say his name.

 

“Mr. Mason?”

 

Albert shook his head and focused back on Arthurs face, trying hard not to stare. “Yes, I’m  sorry, was thinking about what to shoot next.” He lied.

Arthur had noticed the man spacing off and decided he must have been a bit surprised at the violence of killing the wolves. Arthur knew what he was, and killing these creatures had been nothing to him. But to a gentle, sweet man like Albert Mason, it must have seemed traumatic. Arthur sighed to himself and finally noticed the blood on his hands and clothes.

 

“How about we...set up a camp near the river? Gives me a chance to clean up.” he said, suddenly self conscious in front of the man.

 

Albert’s head snapped to Arthurs direction.

 

“What about the other pelts?” He stopped himself from asking for another demonstration, the first had only gotten Albert distracted by Arthurs knowledge of the outdoors, and the fine tuning of his muscular ability.

 

Arthur shook his head. “Eh, only really need one. Smell gets pretty bad.” he lied. He would have loved to take all the pelts, but he didn't want to cause anymore trauma to the man in front of him. He hoped to see him again. That thought in and of itself in Arthurs mind scared him. In his life, Arthur couldn't really ‘make friends’ outside the camp. Sure, he could help a few people here and there, or kill a few just as easily, but none he would consider his friend. Though Albert seemed to be pressing a lot of Arthurs normal habits out of the window.

 

\---

Together they rode off toward a nearby stream. It had a few open spots, but Arthur felt comfortable camping here, as the sun was setting.

 

“Please feel free to stay after dinner if you wish.” Albert said, hiding his blush. “I hear nights are dangerous out here, and I would not mind a protector.” he was cursing himself internally, unaware Arthur was doing the same but for different reasons.

 

He was telling himself to get back to camp. To take the money instead of the food and time, but he felt himself nod.

 

          “Sounds good. Guess I gotta get used to protecting ya.” he joked and gave a small genuine smile when Albert laughed.

 

“I do hope so. I have gotten some great photos because of you.”

 

“You also haven’t died.” Arthur added.

 

Albert nodded. “Of course there is also that.” he began to set up his tent as Arthur did the same. Albert was a bit saddened that they wouldn't share, but he should have known the outlaw beside him would have his own provisions.   

 

There was a communicable silence as Albert started a fire, grabbing a cooking rack he had from his horses saddle. Arthur was sharpening his hunting knife when he saw Albert rubbing the meat with something that looked like sand.

 

“What’re you doin?” He asked incredulously.

 

Albert looked to the outlaw and chuckled.

 

“Seasoning the meat of course.” His tone was one of disbelief. “The butcher assured me, his blend does wonders for a steak.” He said as he pulled out the potatoes and a few other ingredients. Arthur stopped what he was doing and gave his full attention to the man in front of him.

 

“Ain’t that stuff just supposed to go in stew?” he asked, confused.

 

“Oh no, sir!” Albert said. “Stews have their own specific set of spices that favor each other, a steak needs something more robust!” Albert said with a bit of flair. “Normally I would also have mushrooms with the meat, but sadly the general store was out.”

 

Arthur looked shocked. “You mean the white things growin on trees?”

 

Albert nodded “Yes! Some are poisonous and some are delicious. Though I wouldn’t know the difference looking at them.” Arthur knelt beside Albert as the man continued. “I could not spice yours if you wish?”

 

Arthur blinked. “Uh. No no, do what you want. I guess...I ain’t never had something seasoned that weren’t from a saloon. An’ all the camps got is stew most of the time.” he chuckled.

 

Albert grinned. “Well then, sir, you are in for a treat tonight. I may not be a frontier man but I am a man of some luxury! “ Arthur watched as Albert put the rub on his steak and  even some on the potatoes. He slathered in in butter first to make it stick and then slowly put it on the rack for cooking.

 

“If you like it you are happy to have some of my spices to take with you“ Albert told him as he cleaned his hands in the river. It reminded Arthur to wash his own hands of blood.

 

“Uh, Sure.” he said. “and you just rub it on before cooking it?” he asked.

 

Albert nodded. “You can put it on after as well, but I prefer to cook with it on, lets it soak into the fibers.” he chuckled. “I am surprised you haven’t seasoned your own meat.”

 

“Never had time I guess.”

 

Albert looked to Arthur and saw the small hint of sadness behind the mans blue eyes. He may not have known the outlaw well, but it was easy to see Arthur hadn't had the best of lives. Albert took a deep breath and smiled.

 

“You know what sounds good right now?”

 

“What?”

 

“Coffee.” the photographer said jovial. “How about I brew us some?” He offered.

 

Arthur gave a small smile. “Sounds good.”

 

He got up and went a bit farther down the river, bar of soap in hand. It had been white when he grabbed it, but as the sun set and the night settled in, it began to turn red from the blood Arthur was trying desperately to scrub off.  Blood was always the hardest to get off his body, especially animal blood. He glanced to his shirt and sighed. It was filthy. He turned back to the fire and saw Alberts back to him.

 

“Stop it ya damn fool.” he mumbled to himself. “Who cares if he sees ya? Don’t matter.” Arthur couldn’t believe how self conscious he was all of a sudden. And for what? He knew what he looked like, an who cared if his new friend saw his bare skin, covered in scars and marks?

 

He had to stop calling him that. Albert wasn’t a friend, he was a clumsy man Arthur had saved twice, and refused money from like a moron. He took a deep breath and removed his button up shirt, deciding his pants weren’t too dirty, so they could stay on. He began scrubbing just as Albert was headed for him.

 

The photographer was at a safe distance when he swallowed and stopped. The blush had come back to his cheeks and he tried to hide it before pushing himself forward. Albert noted early on in their first meeting that Arthur was a very attractive man. He had already gotten lost in his facial features, but now it’d just dawned on him just how handsome he found the outlaw.

 

With his shirt off, Albert could see more than just the outline of muscle and bulk, he saw scars and contours, creating a beautiful map over Arthur's body. Albert would regard himself as a very soft man. He was tall which helped but he had noticeable pudge. Not like the beacon of health Arthur seemed to be. He was broad, tanned and strong. Everything that made Albert want to reach out and touch him. He wanted to feel if there was any softness to the man. It would be like finding velvet in a pile of diamonds. He shook the distracting thoughts of Arthur from his mind as he trudged forward.

“Mr. Morgan?” He asked, and was surprised with Arthur jumped a bit. The man turned to Albert and cleared his throat.

 

“Yea?” he said, turning back to his shirt as if cleaning it were the most important thing in the world. Arthur thanked god it was dark, it was easier to hide his embarrassment.  

 

“I was unsure how you took your coffee.” Albert said, his voice a bit shaky. “I have some sugar if you would like some.”

 

Arthur took a deep breath. “Sure. A bits fine I guess.” He refused to meet Alberts eyes.

 

Albert nodded. “Alright then.” He offered a small smile before spinning on his heels and hurrying back toward their camp. He finally began to breathe again, not realizing he had stopped in Arthurs presence as he crumpled on his knees near the flames. “Oh my Albert, what are you thinking?” he mumbled to himself.

 

“What the hell are you doin you damn fool?” Arthur said to himself as he continued to scrub the wolf blood from his shirt.

 

Soon Arthur was done cleaning and realized his shirt was too wet to put back on. He hated wearing wet clothes, they always drug him down. He knew he had a spare on his horse, so he tried to make his way to his saddle bag as inconspicuous as possible.

“Mr. Morgan.” Albert called. “Coffee is ready!” Arthur closed his eyes and let a small chuckle leave his lips.

 

“Comin.” He grabbed a fresh shirt and put it on before throwing the wet on a  nearby rock to dry overnight. He was rolling up the sleeves when he caught Albert staring at him.

 

“You alright Mr. Mason?”

 

Albert blinked. “Uh. Yes yes I’m fine.” He handed Arthur the metal cup filled with coffee. “The-- meat still has a bit of time.” He said, sipping his own cup.

Arthur nodded and took one sip before making a shocked face.

 

Albert was on it. “Is it too sweet? You said a bit of sugar so I put the same amount I usually have an--”

 

“It’s fine..I just never had sweet coffee before.” He chuckled. “Kinda like it.” he said as he sipped again.  

 

Albert smiled. “I should have assumed you wanted it black, a rough outdoorsman like yourself probably can handle the bitter taste.”

 

Arthur chuckled. “To be fair, I never liked the stuff much, just always had it in the morning.”

 

Albert bit his lip. “Did they not have sugar at your camp?” He had heard the man mention it a few times, and he was intrigued, or he was until he saw Arthur visibly tense.

 

“Not usually.” he said not meeting Alberts eyes. The photographer nodded. He leaned into his bag and pulled out a small box.

 

“Take this when you go back in the morning.”

 

Arthur looked to the box then back to Albert. “I don’t wanna t-”

 

“I insist Mr. Morgan.” Albert said as he took Arthurs free hand and put the sugar box inside it. He mentally noted how small the box looked in Arthur's hand.

 

          Arthur was glad he was focused on something instead of the outlaws face.

 

Arthurs mind and heart were tail spinning. He could feel how different Alberts hands were to his own. He had soft hands, no calluses or noticeable scars. It was like touching a fancy statue. It took all of Arthurs strength not to pull back. He didn’t deserve to feel the touch of someone like that.

 

Instead he just cleared his throat a bit. “Fine. If you insist.” he said, trying to joke, but his own heart was loud in his ears. Not to mention the voice screaming at him to run,to get out of Alberts life before it was too late.

 

Then he saw the man smile and he stayed, locked where  he was.

 

“It is my pleasure Mr.Morgan. It is the least I could do for what you did for me today. And not to mention the first time with that coyote.” he said as he pulled a few plates from his bag. He got their food off the fire and handed Arthur a plate.

 

Arthur was surprised that even as they ate, Albert didn’t stop talking.

 

“Where did you learn so much about wildlife?”

“Who taught you how to skin an animal?”

“Have you always roamed the frontier?”

 

Arthur answered everything and chuckled. “You remind of this little boy I know.”

 

Albert rose an eyebrow. “You have a son?”

 

Arthur froze for a minute. “I...used to. But I never really met him.” he finally answered.

 

Albert was actually quiet for a moment. Arthur looked to him and noticed there was no pity in his eyes.It seemed a bit of understanding hid behind the man's gaze, and Arthurs heart ached to find that kind of connection, so he continued.

 

“I was young and stupid. Got a girl pregnant and she had a boy. Knew it was mine, so I’d sent money to ‘em, visit now and again when we was in town. Then I went to visit one day and found two graves.” he stopped and swallowed his steak. “Found out they died over $10.”

 

Arthur couldn't look at Albert, so many things he saw in Eliza and Mary he saw in the mans hazel eyes and it scared him.

 

“I am sorry Arthur.” Albert said softly. “What were their names…?”

 

“Girls name was Eliza. She named the boy Isaac after her father.” he admitted.

 

Albert blinked a bit and said nothing. Arthur hadn’t shared that with anyone in camp. Dutch and Hosea knew, but that's because they were there. He wasn’t even sure why he was sharing it now, but he chalked it up to the comfort he felt around Albert. Even in the face of death, he’d felt the stress roll off his shoulders at the photographers smile.

 

“But you remind me of another boy I know. Names Jack. All day everyday is questions questions questions.” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

 

Albert gave a small smile. “It is natural for kids to be inquisitive. I know I certainly was.” he looked to the stars. “My sister had a small boy, Martin. Same way. We got along swimmingly of course, though the father was less than impressed. He believed you shouldn’t ask so many questions, you just put your head down and got through life.” He sighed. “Suffice to say once I explained my little project to my nephew, The father told my sister I was barred from their home. ‘No man is filling my sons head with nonsense’ is what he said. “ Albert let out another long sigh before turning to Arthur. ”I may not understand the death of a son, but I do understand the absence of a child. And I am sorry for your loss Mr. Morgan.”

Albert lifted a hand and took a deep breath before putting it over Arthurs. He held for a second before patting it, then returning his hand to his utensil.

 

Arthur wished he hadn’t pulled away.

 

There was a silence that fell over the rest of their meal, it was a bit awkward, but not unpleasant. Albert was the first to get up, stretching as he took a deep breath and let it go.

“I do believe the days festivities and wonderful chat have left me quite tired.” he smiled to Arthur. “I hope you have a pleasant rest Mr. Morgan and it has been amazing talking to you.”

 

Arthur let a breath go and nodded. “Think I'll keep watch for a bit. Would be your luck gettin a beastly visitor in the night.”

 

Albert nodded. “Indeed it would. But do try and get some rest.”

 

“Don’t worry about me” Arthur said as he lit a cigarette. He flashed Albert a smirk and the photographer rolled his eyes.

 

“Goodnight Mr. Morgan.”

 

“Goodnight Mr. Mason.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked this first chapter. Hopefully I'll be posting one every weekend!
> 
> Leave a comment and kudos if you like it!


End file.
